


What's in a code name

by Jsuisfarouche



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsuisfarouche/pseuds/Jsuisfarouche
Summary: They remain silent for a few moments, then Enjorlas speaks. "Do you think I could pass for a girl?"Grantaire looks up arching an eyebrow inquisitively."Like if I make my lips a little more red and braid my hair. And wear a gown or something like that. I bet I would pass for a girl with some makeup.""Dude what are you-""We can run away and trick someone and you can marry me, I can pretend to be a girl, and then once we're married we can come back and be kings together."Grantaire snorts. "That sounds feasible."*Enjolras is heir to the throne, Grantaire has been his best friend for all his life, and at some point they became something more. Not just lovers, but actual family, when the family Enjolras actually has tries his best to break him down.
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

"Let's play home" blonde curls bounce excitedly as Enjolras gracelessly jumps on Grantaire's bed. His eyes bright with the promise of a full day of being with his best friend in the whole wide world. Yesterday it was his birthday, he turned 9 and had to spend the whole day eating and meeting adults he was not completely sure what they wanted from him. He was bored out of his mind, but he bravely endured it because mother said he could have a wish if he behaved, and father didn't object, which means he didn't care enough to forbid it, which means he got to wish for a whole day with Grantaire. 

"G' away" The smaller kid protests, trying to cover his head with the old and rustic blanket

"Taire! Wake up! We can't waste time!"

"Sh'up" a whine from underneath the blanket cocoon.

Enjolras' nanny giggles, she always liked Grantaire, thank god, and she often leaves them alone when they play.

She's the best nanny he ever had.

"I'll see you guys for lunch?" she offers, glancing fondly at the two kids. Well, a kid and a little blanket mountain.

"Can we have pudding for dessert?"

"Chocolate?"

"Vanilla and strawberry" Enjolras says, because he knows it's Grantaire's favourite.

The blankets stir under Enjolras' weight, half tackling, half hugging the kid still hidden .

"We'll make it happen. You kids have fun." and with that, Cecile leaves them to it, whatever 'it' is.

"Taire, please! It's my birthday, you have to do as I say, you know."

Grantaire resigns to an early morning rise, and emerges with a sigh from under the blanket. "Your birthday was yesterday." he argues.

"Yesterday doesn't count. Here." Enjolras produces a blueberry tart, a bottle of milk and an apple from his bag. "You are my wife and I'm bringing you breakfast. Good Morning! Wake up we have to go to work soon!" 

Grantaire eyes him warily, but accepts the food. He's only human after all.

"Why do I haf' t' be the wife." he asks between bites.

"Ugh. Fine, I'll be the wife then." 

"But I don' wan' one." 

"My birthday, my rules!"

"But I don't like-" he stops, gulping down half a bottle of milk in one go. "I don't even like girls."

Enjolras' face falls a little. "How are we supposed to be married then?"

"You don't have to be a girl for that, stuuupid" Grantaire reaches behind his head and tugs at the lace that keeps his long dark curls from escaping everywhere. The lace is soon undone. "C'm here" he gestures Enjolras to sit on his bed properly, and Enjolras obliges. "I saw my cousin get married the other day. Look."

Grantaire wraps the lace in his hand once on his wrist and then once on Enjolras'. Then he loops it once over both of them, tugs lightly and tucks the end of the lace behind his wrist. Enjolras, sitting in front of him, is getting more and more excited by the minute, if possible.

"Now you are married forever" Grantaire asserts solemnly, and a wide smile spreads on Enjolras face. 

"Are we actually married now? For real?"

Grantaire nods seriously. "See? You only need your wrists to get married, you don't need a girl."

"Ok then husband, finish your breakfast, we have to go to work."

"What's our work?" Grantaire is now fully awake and jumps down the bed as soon as he manages to untangle their wrists, starting to get dressed in between the last bites of the tart.

"We are explorers on a mission. The treasure has been stolen but we know where it is but we have to make a plan to steal it back." Enjolras produces now a pencil and some parchment from his bag. He starts to scribble down something that looks vaguely like a treasure map.

Grantaire grabs a bag from underneath the bed. "I will save the apple for the journey, then." he says, finally on board with the game. 

Enjolras looks up to him, cheeks red with excitement "And we need swords to fight the monsters that probably stole the treasure."

Grantaire lifts a floorboard and grabs two very poorly made wooden swords. "Got 'em" 

"We also need code names" 

"I'm R." Grantaire grins smugly. He thought up the pun a few days ago, all by himself, and he feels so proud.

"Oh, that's clever." Enjolras pouts. "I can be E, I guess." the disappointment in his voice is palpable, he too wants a clever pun code name.

"You could be.. Ange." 

Enjolras eyes him warily. "That's what my last nanny called me, and I didn't like her. She never let us do anything fun."

"I don't think she got the pun, I think she just saw your pretty blond hair and thought you were an actual cherub." Grantaire mocks him with a grin.

"I like E more." he pouts again.

"Ok look, it's like a secret. I'll call you Ange and everyone will think I'm calling you angel but we will know I'm calling you Enj. E-N-J. It's like our secret code for our secret names."

"And you won't call me angel? Promise?"

"Promise."

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


"You are being so dramatic about this." R says from the other room. Enjolras stormed into his shop without even realizing they had a public. Luckily Le Gros keeps everything he hears to himself, and most of the time he even finds excuses to leave the two boys alone when Enjolras comes to visit. He's not even that fazed that the heir to the throne is his apprentice's best friend apparently. He just accepted the state of things and moved on.

That's why half an hour ago he muttered "Finish that damn club before I get back." and left, bringing with him his sac for the long travels.

"Excuse me? A ball to be officially presented as ready to be wed?" he is fuming. His grip on the wooden working table is making his knuckles go white from exertion. "What am I a cow? Ready to be sold to the market?"

Grantaire offers a sympathetic glance, while he comes back to polish the handle of the club he is working on. "You must have known it would happen sooner or later tho." 

"I- yes, like, abstractly. I thought I had time to form a-"

"Honestly I'm surprised they even waited until you were 16." and Enjolras gives him a reproachful look "You started getting suitors by the time you were 11. Maybe even before." his tone is noncommittal, like he is talking about the obvious things in life. The grass is green. Water is wet. Enjolras is being courted by someone. 

His tone is neutral. But his shoulders are rigid and he lowers his eyes. 

Anyone else would not get it, but Enjolras does. He always gets Grantaire. 

"It's such bullshit."

Grantaire nods, but doesn't say anything else.

They remain silent for a few moments, then Enjorlas speaks. "Do you think I could pass for a girl?"

Grantaire looks up arching an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Like if I make my lips a little more red and braid my hair. And wear a gown or something like that. I bet I would pass for a girl with some makeup."

"Dude what are you-"

"We can run away and trick someone and  _ you  _ can marry me, I can pretend to be a girl, and then once we're married we can come back and be kings together."

Grantaire snorts. "That sounds feasible."

"We'd be so badass."

"I think you just want to trick me into marrying you." Grantaire grins again, and Enjolras knows it's a façade. He suspects his feelings for his best friend are not one sided, but he knows there is so much that could go wrong for Grantaire if they go down that path, so he never says anything.

Today, however, he is angry. And angry means that he is weak and vulnerable. Angry means he doesn't think straight. Quite literally.

"Didn't think you'd need to be tricked for that." he half pouts, but the hurt shows a little and he knows Grantaire sees it.

"Enj.."

"Whatever."

"Come on, where is this coming from? You know you're my best friend." Grantaire's voice is shaking as he tries to pass it for a light hearted comment.

Enjolras swallows and doesn't say anything for a while. He knows this is selfish. He knows it's risky. But his more rational part has gone and taken a hike today, and he spent the whole day arguing with his mother about how to choose a wife, and he is tired.

"I'm going to get married to a girl I don't know. Who I won't like- shut up." he stops even before Grantaire can voice his protest. "You know I won't, R. You know me. You  _ know _ . And I will keep on doing things I don't want to do because that's how it's supposed to be. And I will keep on building my life over layers and layers of lies. So please." his voice just a whisper, now "please don't let this one thing in my life be built on lies too. We don't- you don't have to do anything. Just don't pretend it's not there."

"It's not a lie that you're my best friend." R's voice is so weak when he says it. It's like the last punch in a fight where you already know you lost. Enjolras just stares at him, waiting.

After what feels like forever, Grantaire's shoulder slump a little, and his voice feels a little less airy "What do you want me to say, E. What do you want."

Enjolras moves slowly towards his best friend. It's like he's afraid he could scare Grantaire away, which is ridiculous, he knows, but in this moment what isn't. He stops in front of R, much closer than what they usually allow themselves to be in a semi public space. He lowers his head to rest his forehead on Grantaire's shoulder. He instantly feels strong arms holding him reassuringly, so he returns the hug.

"Enj.." Grantaire tries one last time.

"Just promise you'll stay. Here with me. Forever." 

A chaste kiss is placed on top of Enjolras' head, and his heart rate speeds up instantly. "I promise, Enj. It could never be any other way."

Enjolras wants to smile, but today was too much, so he hides in Grantaire's neck instead and sobs quietly for a few minutes.

Grantaire pets his hair to calm him down, like he did when they were kids and Enjolras  _ had  _ to go back to the palace but didn't  _ want  _ to and cried and pleaded for just five more minutes. Grantaire has always been the stronger one between them.

When he feels emptied from the aches of the day and stops crying, he sighs contentedly in the embrace that makes him feel safe and happy and that he could do anything. Grantaire must sense that the worst is over and reaches for his face, cupping his cheeks and brushing away the wetness that lingered there. He smiles soft and sweet. "You are so fucking ugly when you cry." he tries to joke, and no force in the universe could have stopped Enjolras from kissing him, then and there.

Thank god Le Gros left when he did.

Grantaire stills and makes a surprised noise, hands hovering next to Enjolras face now, not holding his cheeks anymore. Enjolras moves away, just enough to look up and meet his eyes, being the shorter one now, since puberty hit them both. He looks up at Grantaire and locks eyes with him. Even in his whispers, he conveys all the strength of his conviction. He breathes out "please. I just need the truth." and waits.

Grantaire doesn't move for what seems like forever, but when has he ever been able to refuse Enjolras anything, really? His hands tangle in blond curls and he kisses him with all the desperation he feels. 

"This makes everything worse, you know?" Grantaire, ever the cynic, whispers when they part at last.

"Don't you dare ever say that again. Ever." Enjolras whispers too, but to Grantaire's ears it's like he was screaming, and he gets it. He nods. He gets it. He knows.

And he agrees.

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  


"Marius is his name, and I don't see what the problem is, seeing your  _ tendencies _ ." his father informs him like he would tell him to attend a council meeting, and has the audacity to look shocked when Enjolras is taken aback.

"It's- we can't have two kings." he protests weakly, at loss of what to say.

"Don't be stupid, he's going to stay a Baron, nothing more. The times are right for such an arrangement."

The times are right, hah. What a joke. As if the few instances where same-sex marriage is turning out to be more and more accepted in their kingdom would actually be something his father cares about.

Enjolras does. He always did. And his father had always been opposed to his views on the matter. It wasn’t even out of a selfish desire to get married himself to the person he loves, he knew that would never have been possible for so many reasons. It was just the right thing to do. Support what made people happy. People who did nothing wrong, people who fell in love.

But apparently any bullshit excuse will do at the present time, so here they are.

He's going to marry a man. He always thought getting married to a girl would have been the worst thing that ever happened to him, but the thought of having to go through all of it with a man. A man but not the right one. He feels like throwing up.

"He's coming two weeks from now. Sort your other arrangements out, he's the one and I will hear no more of it."

His father leaves him speechless, and all he can do is send for Grantaire and wait for him in his chamber.

"Marius. He's going to be a baron." he says as a greeting, voice devoid of any emotion.

"Are you fucking kidding me." Grantaire feels winded. Might be because he ran to get there as fast as he could. Most likely, it's the outrageous news.

Enjolras shakes his head, eyes focused on nothing.

"Fuck. Fuck Enj. If only I were.."

" _ No _ ." Enjolras commands, shaken from his trance. "He's not doing it to make it easier for me. You could have been a girl and he would not have approved. He is trying to break me."

And it’s true, isn’t it. That’s the game they are playing. 

_ Enjolras, you are too soft.  _

_ You have to learn how to be tough.  _

_ Life is pain.  _

_ You have to learn how to suffer. _

That is the lesson. That is the end goal. Just make him suffer until he’s too broken to fight back anymore. 

He knows because he’s heard it a thousand times before, but never, until now, the full meaning of those sentences really sank in. Never did he really understand what they meant. Their implications.

Grantaire approaches him and stands in between his parted legs. He hugs him, bringing his head to rest on his stomach and strokes his hair to comfort him.

"What do we do?" Grantaire asks

"I don't know." Enjolras chokes out

"What can I do?" Grantaire whispers now.

"Don’t leave me." Enjolras hides his face in the soft, warm belly of his favourite person and he knows he is luckier than most. He has loved and been loved in return. And their affection is strong and their bond unbreakable. 

But it still hurts

Grantaire lowers himself and kisses him. "Never." he says, and tries for a smile. "When is he coming?" 

"The week before my birthday. He comes to stay, we are to be wed a month after that."

"That's so fucking soon, why?"

"Apparently 21 is the deadline for all marriage things. At 22 you are lost forever."

Grantaire chuckles. A thought flashes through his head, and he pushes it down but he knows the man hugging him better than he knows himself, and if he thought about it there is no way-

"What if" yep. here it is. "we delay everything. There must be some way we can hold off for another year, and then-"

"Your father is making you marry  _ a man _ . How sure are you that he will actually abide by the age thing?"

Enjolras thinks about it. "I'm sure he will not give a fuck and marry me even at 30 if that means making my life more miserable."

Grantaire hugs him again, even stronger than before.

"We could run away." Grantaire whispers.

"Yes. We could." Enjolras answers, and they both already know that for each and every time they thought about it, talked about it, planned it, there is just no way of running away. They would risk their lives to run away in a heartbeat, but neither of them is ready to risk losing the other’s. 

Here at least they get to be together.

"Stay the night?" Enjolras asks, his cheeks flushing a little.

Grantaire swallows and nods. 


	2. Chapter 2

Marius arrives on a rainy, early morning. 

The two weeks waiting for this day had been hell wrapped in a nightmare for both of them. They lost count of how many hours they spent talking about what might happen. 

They started planning to run away together once again, but Enjolras is not 16 anymore, the rage he felt has quieted down, not in its intensity, but in its externations. He used to rebel, fight, argue.

Now he seethes in silence.

Now he’s scared.

He’s always known Grantaire is strong. He used to be the mature one between them when they were kids, always taking responsibility for all of the trouble they got into during their childhood. They were both rowdy, full of energy and curious. It was inevitable. It was expected.

Yet, Enjolras was always a little scared. A little reluctant to admit what he just did. And Grantaire would be standing next to him, knees just as bloody as him, saying yes. Yes we broke the old rocking chair. We’re sorry. We’ll fix it. 

Enjolras tried so hard to be a little braver during these times, but it always took so much effort for him, when Grantaire would just admit it so easily. Not a second thought. 

Never once Enjolras did look at him admitting mischief and not think  _ brave _ .  _ Strong _ . 

But now it’s different, now he knows what happened to his mare, just because he decided to go out on a ride one day, after a nasty discussion with his parents, wanting, needing to cool down for a moment. 

Her name was Patria, and he loved her dearly. He got her from someone - a suitor? He has no idea - who gifted her to him when he was 13. She’d been a tiny little thing, so shiny and black and velvety. He had had a very bad day, but being gifted Patria made it better. 

But when he was 17 Patria meant too much freedom apparently. He was not to be allowed to leave whenever he wanted. He was not allowed space. He was not allowed to argue.

He knows what happened to her, because they made him watch. 

They made sure he could never forget.

Now it’s different, now he’s scared because Grantaire was allowed to visit him, one of the days after they took her from him, and he was in Enjolras’ room when his father decided to come pay a visit, and offhandedly decided to remind Enjolras that “He’s the only pet you have left, be careful.” jerking his head toward the black haired boy.

And if he had been as strong as Grantaire, maybe..

But he isn’t. Grantaire is the strong one. He’s the scared one. 

So he seethes in silence and protects his best friend any way he can.

  
  


Grantaire still asleep in Enjolras bed doesn't even stir when someone knocks at the door, but Enjolras bolts upright. A bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Cecile has come to wake them, and brings the news. "He's approaching. He’ll arrive in an hour" she offers a sad smile to the boy she basically grew herself. "I heard he seems.."

"I don't care." he really doesn't. He just feels cold all over, bile rising in his throat. “We’ll get ready.”

He goes back to bed after locking the door once again. He managed to convince his parents that he’s not even friends with Grantaire anymore, because he felt like they started sensing something fishy was going on between them and he is not taking risks when Grantaire is concerned. So he locks doors. Doesn’t talk about him. Meets him only when it’s absolutely safe to do so. 

It’s not perfect but it’s always better than the alternative. 

He brushes Grantaire’s hair softly once, twice and knows he is starting to stir by the rhythm of his breathing. 

“Nooo” he protests, face smashed in the pillow. Enjolras calms down a little.

“He’s here, Taire.” 

Grantaire stills for a few seconds, then pushes himself up from the mattress and sits, eyes still closed, facing Enjolras. “As if I needed one more reason to hate this guy. Who the fuck arrives at the crack of dawn.”

Enjolras smiles, a hand coming to pet Grantaire’s sleepy face. He strokes his cheek, rubbing his left eye with his thumb, then moving his hand to untangle a bit of the mess that are Grantaire’s curls every morning. Grantaire leans into the touch, humming pleased for the attention. 

“I could swear you were a cat in your past life.” 

“I’d have made a great cat” Grantaire yawns. They don’t pretend that this isn’t a big deal, because it is. Enjolras has lost countless hours worth of sleep dreading this day. Grantaire is starting to lose weight, and is working more and more hours to keep his mind off things. 

It is a big deal. It is scary. And they are nervous. 

But there is also the silent understanding that this too is but a bump in the road of their lives together. That their routines might have to adjust but will not be bent to the will of the King or nobody else’s . It’s still them. Enjolras will always cuddle Grantaire awake. Grantaire will always cuddle Enjolras to sleep. 

“Come on, let’s get dressed.” and with a soft peck on the lips, they rise.

  
  


The kingdom his father rules over is a small one. It expands for a thousand miles around their palace, give or take, but their land is unwelcoming and the weather is always a little colder than he’d liked. Their crops aren’t usually enough to sustain the population, so they trade a lot with neighbouring kingdoms. 

The throne was not even actually his father’s, him being the third son and all. But his oldest brother died trying to do something Enjolras doesn’t care enough to read about, and the second brother just left when their parents died of the flu during a particular unforgiving winter. He was already being trained to be the heir to the throne, but as soon as they were gone from the picture, he fled and never looked back.

The only sane relative he’s ever had, in Enjolras opinion.

His father was all too happy to take charge and be what he never hoped he would be. 

Not a king, no. He wanted to be powerful. Rich. In control.

More than anything, he wanted to be in a position where people were not allowed to ignore his will. 

And he got exactly that.

He married in a rush, and produced a healthy heir. He must have been so proud of himself when Enjolras was born. A boy. On their first try. 

No time was spared in Enjolras’ life. He must be trained. That’s how they always talked. Trained. Like a fucking freakshow. Since day one, he had to be trained. He had one purpose in life, he made sure to always remind him. He was born to rule. To command. 

Managing the kingdom had always been a tedious affair to him. He just wanted people to obey, he didn’t  _ care _ . He got through the boring business because he could always unwind by beating his golden boy into shape. Then puberty happened, and suddenly it was way less fun, because Enjolras fought back and resisted.

Now Enjolras realizes that to him it might have been a challenge. 

Now Enjolras suspects that the challenge is still on.

  
  


Enjolras didn’t know what to expect, honestly. 

He didn’t exactly try to imagine what Marius would look like, his brain just gave him a generic face by default. A baron, he imagined a short little man. Probably older than him. Thin, with an ordinary face. A walking stick, possibly. Don’t all barons come with one? Like, by default.

But even in his initial surprise that this Marius guy is nothing like his brain suggested he would be, he can’t repress the disgust that the discovery entails. Because Marius looks remarkably like Grantaire, curly hair, coal black, and hazel eyes. The wrong shade of golden, of course. But hazel nonetheless. Amber against cheap glass, really. He might be a little shorter than his R, but it’s hard to say because he always slumps a little, and the Baron apparently doesn’t. Their body shape is very similar, however. Solid, strong. 

And by now Enjolras knows there are no coincidences when his father comes into play. 

He feels sick to his stomach.

At one point in his life, Enjolras would have doubted his father’s intentions. Maybe he was trying to make it easier for his son. Choosing a man to marry when he never showed any interest in girls. Choosing a guy that looks like the only person Enjolras was ever interested in. Maybe, Enjolrals would have thought in his younger days, maybe it was an attempt at kindness. 

But he is not 15 anymore. He is not 19. He has learned his lesson time and time again. He knows his father thinks he has to break him before he can tame him. And he knows how to do it. But even if the first 21 years of his life weren’t proof enough, the grin that spreads on his father’s face when he sees Enjolras’ reaction would do the trick. 

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, prince Enjolras.” Marius bows before him, paying respects.

“Likewise.” Enjolras focuses all of his attention on being polite. He thinks he makes a fairly convincing job, because Marius smiles at him. His eyes light up and it’s so wrong Enjolras wants to scream. “Allow me to show you to your rooms, Baron.” And he turns on his heels gracefully. He gets a glimpse of his mother’s satisfied expression and at least he knows that he’s safe for now.

Enjolras ushers Marius through the halls of their palace, quickly explaining what most things they pass are, but always refusing to look back to check if his guest and the two maids that came with him are still following. He can hear their steps anyway. 

It doesn’t take long for them to reach the guest’s room that will become Marius’ for the time being. A few doors down the kitchen, on the ground floor. At least it is two whole floors down Enjolras’.

“Enjolras.” Marius calls him after being shown his room, right before he could leave to do literally anything else with his time. But Marius calls, and he stops. “Could I have a word, before you leave?”

Enjolras forces a smile. “Sure.”

Marius looks at his maids. “Alone. Leave us for a couple of hours.”

Enjolras veins turn into ice. “I don’t think this is appropriate.” He stutters.

Marius' kind smile, which he was sporting since the minute he arrived, is nowhere to be found now, replaced by an unreadable expression. “I don’t care about appropriate. Sit.” He gestures toward the bed and honestly, this is happening much sooner than Enjolras anticipated, but he did anticipate it will happen at some point, so he sits, resigned. 

Marius sits next to him and Enjolras waits.

“First, let me start by apologising to you. I know I could have taken a few days, get to know you better, and maybe that would have been more fair to you. So, I apologise. I am a very selfish man.”

Enjolras swallows, but doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even move. His heart hammers in his chest like it would like to escape it and his throat feels like someone is strangling him. He cannot honestly remember another time in his life he felt so scared and powerless.

At last, Marius speaks again.

“You are honestly extremely good looking. And I’m sure you have many other qualities. But I must be upfront with you. I am already in love with someone. I’m sorry.”

The whiplash Enjolras feels is so strong that he turns reflexively to Marius and says “You what?” and he doesn’t even care how Marius could take his reaction at this moment, because the relief these words cause him are making him feel dizzy.

“I realize this must be disappointing, and I will accept the consequences of whatever you do with this information. I was paid well to come here, and the money was needed. So I came. But I will not go through with something that will take me from my happiness. I can marry. I can be the husband on paper. But it is only fair to you that you understand, the person I am in love with is my whole life, and that will never change.”

Enjolras is stunned shut. He is hallucinating. It’s a trick. He hit his head and is in a coma. This is not possible, because good things don’t happen to Enjolras.

He’s still silent, because he needs to sort out what he knows in his head. Marius seems to be patiently waiting for him to say something. 

What he knows is that this person has been sent for appositedly to hurt Enjolras. Everything about this arrangement is a power move on him. A man. A cheap Grantaire. And now, conveniently, a man in his exact same situation.

Maybe he’s here to check if Grantaire is actually out of Enjolras’ life. Maybe his father really caught on their friendship being something more and he’s here to get ultimate proof.

It doesn’t really match up with his father's usual m.o., but as always, Enjolras doesn’t take chances when it comes to Grantaire.

And this person, he claims to be willing to go through with the marriage, but that he will always be true to his actual partner. Where is this partner supposed to be, then? He comes from a few kingdoms away, and Enjolras doubts the Baron means they will exchange a few letters every now and then. They might have moved to the town, for all Enjolras knows. Or they might not exist at all. If this were actually a plan to trick Enjolras.

Or..

“Is it one of your maids, then?” Enjolras asks, trying to keep his tone neutral, cold. 

Marius pales, and his hands grip his knees. “Of course not, why would you think that. I am an important man, my title..” He starts rambling, his voice trying its best to be steady. He’s breathing irregularly, but trying to cover for it. Enjolras recognizes the attempt at hiding the panic, he’s now proficient in the art, but it took years to get there. He can almost feel the sweat on his palms as a sympathetic response to the man in front of him, who is coincidentally wiping his left hand on his trousers, as if he was trying to dry it off. 

Enjolras offers a tiny smile. The panic is pretty convincing. And he’s pretty sure his father is not astute enough to put together such a machiavellian plan. He can lean toward believing Marius, for the time being.

However, his small smile, his understanding smile, that had the intent of being reassuring, has the complete opposite effect. 

“I- we’re going to- please, we can le- we can leave as soon as you- please let us leave. It’s my- it’s not actually- she doesn’t- didn’t do anything- please we can leave right now. Please. She’s a really good per- person. I- I tricked her. She’s not- in her right mind. Please, I’ll- I can stay here and send her back- she can go back home and- please-”

Marius’ words become more and more frantic seeing Enjolras’ small smile disappear from his face. And ok, if he’s an actor, he’s a really good one because that is how Enjolras feels every time he even remotely senses that something could be threatening R.

“It’s ok, calm down. You don’t need to send her back.”

Still the wrong answer, apparently.

“Please. Please I didn’t mean to disrespect. You will have your money back. And I can leave immediately. Please.”

“Marius.” Enjolras smiles again, in what he hopes really is a non-threatening way. “Breathe and calm down. Nothing will happen to your partner or to you. I’m not angry.”

Marius is still a little bit frantic. “Can we leave? Please, I didn’t mean to-”

It’s Enjolras turn to panic a little now. Because this could be his best shot at marrying someone and having Grantaire. He takes a deep breath.

“Marius. Listen to me.” and he puts a hand on Marius’ shaky one. “I promise you can leave any time you want, but can we talk about this for a moment? Please.”

Marius seems to calm down a little, and he nods.

Enjolras decides to take a chance.

“I’m in your same situation. I don’t know if you are telling me the truth, but if you are, and I really hope that is the case, this might be my best shot at staying with my.. Person.”

“You’re in love with a maid too?” Marius asks, a little more in control, it seems.

“Something like that, yes.” Enjolras nods “And if you can- If we can just act, for my parents and for whoever the fuck cares about all of this, you’ll be free to do anything you want, whenever you don’t need to convince people we are married. When my parents will be gone, you’ll be free 99% of the time.”

Marius seems to perk up a little, because that is probably just as much a good deal to him as it is to Enjolras. Or maybe not as much, but it’s still a pretty good offer.

“You’re in love.” Marius says, his voice small.

Enjolras swallows. “Very much so, yes.”

Marius looks at him, his cheeks still flush from the panic, but his gaze focused now.

“I could never have hoped..”

“I thought you’d be..”

They start at the same time, and stop after a second to burst into a little shaky laugh together. Relieved. A little more hopeful.

“Your maid..” Marius starts, but it’s cut off by Enjolras.

“I really want to trust you, Marius. But for now, I don’t. Not completely. So you’ll get no information about all of that.”

Marius smiles at him like he understood all the implications of what Enjolras just said.

“That was stupid of me, of course. I want you to trust me, I want us to be always on the same page with this. I think that’s the best way we can make it work. And your maid, I can’t think of a single reason why you should give me anything on her, or on your situation. If you think not telling will keep her safer, that’s fine with me.”

Enjolras is stunned silent for the second time, and it’s really hard to keep his hopes in check. He really wants this to be true. Painfully so. But he can’t let himself believe it completely yet.

“Thank you” he offers.

Marius is still smiling at him, and he’s back radiating happiness just as when he greeted Enjolras on his doorsteps. He looks so young and naive. Enjolras really, really wants him to be honest. “I’d like for us to be friends.” 

“I’m pretty sure we will be.” Enjolras smiles “By the way, what the hell did you think you’d say to me in two fucking hours?”

Marius blushes “I- I don’t know, I had a few options in mind. Convince you with words, that would have been good. I could have offered a- just a physical arrangement. That was another idea.” And Enjolras recognizes the subtle wince at the words. He recognizes because he felt it too for the past weeks, every time he thought about the man now sitting next to him on the bed. 

Suddenly, a thought strikes him. Enjolras stands up. “Call your person, they must be worried sick, if that was your plan. Explain everything to them. We’ll meet at some point and talk about all of this. I have to go. Sorr- ouch! Sorry!” He rushes out of the room, opening the door to quickly and hitting himself with it consequently.

He can hear Marius giggle while he runs away.

He asks Cecile to go get Grantaire, and goes to wait in his room. They figured this is the safest way to meet for now. 

As soon as he gets to his bed, all the nerves and anxiety of the day seem to completely wash over him. He falls on the bed and curls into the side where Grantaire’s smell is stronger and bursts into relieved sobs like never before in his life.

  
  
  
  


It doesn’t take long for Grantaire to get to his room, so Enjolras guesses he must not have gone back to the shop where he still works as a blacksmith. 

The door creaks open and then the lock clicks shut. Enjolras is still sobbing, and can’t find it in himself to stop, but he does sit up, still hugging Grantaire’s pillow to his chest. 

As soon as his eyes meet Grantaire’s however, he realizes what this must look like, and he tries to get out a “N-no!” that stops Grantaire dead in his tracks on his way to the bed. Fuck. He’s messing this up.

Enjolras breathes for a few seconds. “Come here.” He manages to get out, still half sobbing, and Grantaire moves again, so cautiously it breaks his heart. He sits on the bed, but keeps his distance. Enjolras throws himself at the other boy and winces when a jolt of pain spreads from his cheek. “Enj. What the fuck did he do to you.”

Grantaire is shaking.

Enjolras sits up again, brings his hand to his cheek and winces again. He wills himself to calm down. After a minute of deep breaths, he feels able to speak again.

“He didn’t do it. I walked into a door while I was running..”

“Why were you- what did he  _ try  _ to do?” Grantaire is cupping his injured cheek softly now, but the anger in his voice is cutting like a sword.

“No! No, listen. It’s fine. Everything is fine. He’s not interested in me. He’s- he’s like us. Not like us. He has a  _ girlfriend _ , R. He wants this to be a farce.”

Enjolras sees the cogs turning in Grantaire’s brain, and then in clicks, and his eyes widen in realization. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, pretty sure. He brought it up. He was really scared I would hurt her and then I had to tell you and I rushed out of the room and-” He points generically to his face, but he’s sobbing again pretty soon. Grantaire cradles him in his lap and says nothing until he stops crying, but Enjolras can feel he’s still shaking and hugging Enjolras a bit tighter than normal.

Every now and then, a kiss lands on his forehead, and after a while Enjolras calms down and hums pleased. 

“We can do it R, we actually, actually can.”


	3. Chapter 3

“One day I’ll be King, my parents will be dead, and you will never be able to leave my side ever again.” It’s late into the night, or early into the morning, but the happiness and relief they feel still hasn’t washed off. Enjolras plays with the hairs on Grantaire’s stomach and daydreams out loud. “Your job will be to follow me everywhere and kiss me any time I command it.” Grantaire chuckles and pets his hair.

“What about my actual job.”

Enjolras hums. “I forbid it. You can only leave my side when I sleep and can’t see it. And even then, I disapprove.”

“Will I be paid for my service?”

“In gold.” Enjolras smiles at him and surges to kiss him again. Grantaire makes quick work of deepening the kiss, unafraid of the world because the night protects them. 

In the night, they are free.

In the morning however, they are tied to the chains of what society demands of them, so they rise, and they dress, and they part. Grantaire to his craft, Enjolras to his diplomatic quest.

When he joins the rest of the family for breakfast, Marius is already at his father’s side. He is being, without even knowing it, the best husband he could ever be in his father’s eyes. He’s passively listening and agreeing with everything he says out of politeness. Enjolras is in a really good mood, but the game is still on, so he tries to rein in his enthusiasm. He sits next to his mother.

“He seems like a catch.” his mother offers, excitedly.

“We’ll see.” 

“At least he is pleasing to the eye, don’t you agree?”

As much as a bad copy can please your eye when you just spent the most perfect night with the real thing, Enjolras thinks. “Sure, he’s cute. Has a nice smile.” His favourite is definitely the relieved smile they shared yesterday, when they realized they were actually on the same page. So at least that’s not a complete lie.

His mother hums at his side, satisfied for now. Enjolras realizes he will need to weigh the amount of interest he shows toward Marius in a way that will not raise suspicions for his parents. Should he get more and more excited as the wedding comes? His father might think he just did him a favour and call the whole thing off. He is not losing Marius, this is the best shot he has at happiness in this lifetime. Should he fake more and more annoyance at the guy? They might blame Grantaire for it, in some sort of twisted responsibility game, so that is out of the question. He’s getting lost in his own head, when Marius approaches him, his conversation -if one can even call such a one sided exchange that- with his father apparently over.

“Might I ask your company for a morning stroll through the orchard, my Prince?” Marius asks with a smile. 

Enjolras keeps a stoic face when he answers, “Yeah, sure.” and goes back to his apple pie before he can say anything else. 

“I’ll wait by the olive trees in an hour, then.” And with that, Marius bows and takes his leave.

“You better show some enthusiasm, son, or so help me.” His father threatens him as soon as Marius is out of earshot. Enjolras sighs, but doesn’t say anything. He just gets up and leaves, eager to talk to Marius about what is to be done.

And in an hour Marius is there, among the olive trees, but he is not alone. A maid stands next to him, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess who she is. When Enjolras is close enough to catch their attention, they turn to face him, pausing the conversation they were having. She wears an unreadable expression, Enjolras guesses she’s nervous. 

“Prince Enjolras. Can I-”

“Please, just Enjolras is fine when it’s just us.”

“Enjolras.” Marius smiles, and the maid seems to relax a little. “This is my Cosette.”

“Hello.” Enjolras offers, unsure. He knows how to behave when the interaction is dictated by formal etiquette and what is expected of him, but the truth is, he’s shy. She still doesn’t say anything, and Enjolras is at a loss. He looks to Marius for help, but he’s just beaming like he expects Enjolras to just burst into song to celebrate how celestial Cosette’s beauty is. She looks fine to him, he’d just rather she also said something. 

“Uhm, how is it going?” He tries to ask her, not knowing what to do.

She seems surprised by that. “Marius says you are in love with someone else too.”

Enjolras nods.

“What’s their name.”

Enjolras hesitates. That is a lot of trust being asked of him, from someone who spoke a grand total of two sentences to him, ever.

He decides not to answer. Her face turns into stone again.

“Shall we begin our stroll, Baron?” she politely turns to Marius, slipping back in character.

Marius sighs. “Cosette, come on. I wouldn’t give up a name this easily either.”

“Pardon me, I had the impression you actually just did. It must be the heat Baron, it goes to my head and I hear things.” she is still smiling politely, no trace of anger or mocking in her tone, but the sarcasm in her words is so sharp, it’s unmistakable.

“That’s different.” Enjolras intervenes. “I already knew who you were, I’m just putting a name on a face. I could already have done something to you, if I wanted to, I didn’t need your name.”

He has her eyes back on him, so he keeps going. “But you have no idea how to find my person. And you are a fool if you think I’d give you that much power over me in the first two minutes of our meeting.”

She studies him for a minute. Then turns back to Marius, and starts walking through the trees. They follow her. 

“My Baron knows I have not studied much in my life.” She takes the book that was in Marius’ hands and gives him an orange to peel instead. It looks like she is following orders, but it feels like she is ordering him around, instead. Marius just never really stops beaming at her, nor following her like a puppy. She continues strolling, looking in front of her “I only have the people’s wisdom by my side. And we tend to fall scarce on luck. But this is truly fortunate, isn’t it!” And here she finally smiles up at Enjolras. It looks so genuine, but Enjolras knows better. “To find someone that understands the Baron so fully and perfectly in such a short period of time. I never would have believed it possible, honestly. Such an incredible,  _ unbelievable  _ coincidence.” And Enjolras decides here and then that he likes her. She’s smart. She knows her way with words, never dropping the act to make sure she always has a safety net if things turn ugly, but going straight to the point with the content of her speech. “I really would not have believed it myself, if I didn’t see it with my own two eyes.”

She attacks and protects at the same time. 

Enjolras smiles a little. “I’d honestly be as wary as you are if I didn’t see Marius’ face when I guessed who you were yesterday. The panic I saw was what I feel every day of my life. What I’ve felt for my whole life. So yes” He agrees, seriously “I don’t believe in strokes of luck either, even if this might just be that. But I choose to see it more as the universe balancing my books. This is the second good thing that happened to me in 21 years of life. I think I was overdue, honestly.”

She scoffs, but clearly relaxes.

“Tell me about the first one, then.”

Enjolras smiles. “They’re kind. They liked to draw when we were younger, but now with work..” He stops himself before he says too much. “They’re much stronger than me, reliable. They feel any emotion deeply, and sometimes it hurts them more than they let on, but they never let it turn them bitter. I admire them for it, greatly. They like strawberry tarts, but strawberries, not so much. Their- ” He hesitates, but in the end figures that’s not really information they can use to find R “Their favourite book is The Confrontation.”

“Why?” She asks, lowering her guard at last

“They say they like how the author talks about the places Javert visits during his quest.”

Cosette gives a little laugh. “That sounds like bullshit.”

Enjolras smiles too. “That’s what I always tell them as well.”

“The confrontation is a good book!” Marius intervenes. “She could just like descriptive writing.”

“They read it when they were 13. I’m pretty sure they just had a crush on Valjean. All that talk on how strong he was and muscles and manliness.”

“Oh.” Marius nods,like he hadn’t considered it.

“Have you known each other for that long?” Cosette asks, and Enjolras freezes for a moment. That is valuable information. He doesn’t answer.

“You know, it would be easier if we could meet them- ” Cosette offers. Marius puts a hand on her arm and shakes his head in her direction. 

“I don’t know. I don’t-” 

“You said you trusted Marius’ panic..” Cosette tries once more, but her voice is much quieter now.

Enjolras nods, a little more at ease now that Cosette’s walls are completely down. 

“I do. I trust you enough to put myself at risk. I don’t trust hardly anyone enough to put them at risk.”

Marius nods once again. “It’s not like we need to meet them. It would just have been nice, it’d be like having another friend. And it would have probably helped a little with organizing stuff, maybe? But to be honest, I’d keep her out of it too if I could have.”

Cosette hums. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras sighs, relieved. “What convinced you? That I was not lying?” he asks Cosette.

“No one would choose The Confrontation as their imaginary girlfriend’s favourite book.” she smiles at him. He can definitely see her becoming a good friend.

  
  
  
  


“Met Cosette today,” Enjolras tells Grantaire when dinner is over and he is allowed to go back to his room. 

“Who’s that?” 

“The girlfriend.”

Grantaire looks up from the book he was reading, suddenly interested. “How is she?”

“You’d like her. She’s smart.” he smirks.

“I would? Not will?” 

“There is no real reason for you to meet either of them”

Grantaire closes the book and sits up. “They’ll be the only two people except Cecile that will know about us. They will be important in your life Enj.”

“We don’t know for sure yet.”

“Let me be a part of this. Please. What if something happens and they have no idea how to tell me. What if they need me and they can’t reach me. This is for my life too.”

Enjolras hesitates. Every single fiber of him tells him to keep Grantaire safe. He  _ knows  _ it’s better for him not to be involved. He can sense the faint echo of reason in what Grantaire is saying, but it is currently so unimportant, in the face of making sure no one has access to ways in which they could hurt R. 

“I still don’t trust them completely. Maybe. In the future.”

Grantaire sighs, like he knows this argument will go nowhere. Not tonight. But because he’s Grantaire, he cannot simply let it go.

“You’re being paranoid, E.” 

“I’m being careful.”

“What did you talk about?” 

Enjolras hesitates. This is Grantaire 101, he makes you think he is changing the subject, but he’s really poking holes in your arguments. But for now he can’t really see where this is going, so he answers.

“She mostly wanted to make sure I was honest. We talked about you.”

“Oh? Did you tell her all the numerous ways in which I am a wonderful human being? Stroke my ego, Enj.”

“We laughed at your literary taste, mostly.”

“What’s there to laugh?” Grantaire protests, affronted

“Mmh, who knows?” Enjolras teases

“What else, Enj?”

“I don’t know, R. I just told them about you. Random things.”

“Random things they could use to figure out who I am by just asking any other servant in this palace?”

Ah, there it is. Enjolras sees where this is going.

“I told them you were a maid.”

Grantaire’s eyes widen. “You what?”

“Well, technically, Marius asked if you were, and I said something like that, and he just assumed you were from then on. I might have not corrected him.”

And to that Grantaire has no answer, Enjolras knows, because there really is no way they could ask around and trace it back to him. He was probably hoping that they would already have enough information to find out who he was, making it therefore useless for Enjolras to keep hiding him. 

“And if they ask around, the closest maid to you is Cece.” Grantaire whispers. Enjolras nods.

“I’d say it’s pretty safe to assume they would not think I was in love with a 50 years old woman.”

Grantaire scrunches up his nose. “They could ask who is the closest person to you in general.”

Enjolras shrugs. “From how they talked about you, the idea you could be something other than a girl doesn’t even cross their mind. They’ll probably just think I keep my lover very safe and no one knows a thing.”

“I can’t believe you let them believe I’m a girl.” Grantaire sounds extremely displeased.

“Why? Does it bother you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“I’m… not sure.” Grantaire’s face is a mix of confusion and frustration.

“That’s silly.”

“I fucking know, ok? Give me a minute.”

Enjolras sighs, sitting down on the bed together with the other boy. “It’s not like being a girl is inherently-”

“It’s not that they think  _ I’m _ a girl. It’s that they think  _ you _ are  _ with  _ a girl. I don’t like it.”

Enjolras coughs out a laugh, and gets a vicious look from the boy in front of him.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. It’s understandable you’d be jealous of-”

“I’m not jealous, don’t be stupid.”

“No of course, it just bothers you. The abstract idea of a non-existent girl that could have been with me in an alternate universe.”

“..yes.” Grantaire offers, clearly unsure of the answer himself.

“And that’s not stupid?”

“You’re stupid, stupid.”

“Oh, but she would have been so cute, Taire! Long brown hair, and the prettiest green eyes, and-”

Grantaire flushes red and throws the book at him. “Shut up!”

“-she would bake pies for me, and we’d run through meadows of lilies and-”

“I hate you so fucking much.”

“-daisies, braiding each other's hair-”

“You seem to have imagined this with pretty good accuracy.” Grantaire pouts, averting his eyes.

Enjolras laughs out loud then, trying to hug a very reticent Grantaire who tries to free himself from the blond’s embrace. 

“You are such an idiot.” he tells him, fondly, while he wraps himself around Grantaire’s body.

“Go skip into the sunset with your stupid imaginary girlfriend.” he mumbles.

“ _ Such _ an idiot.”

“Shut up.” Grantaire says, but lets himself be kissed anyway.

  
  
  
  


Some days Enjolras has for himself, some days he has for his duties.

Today is the latter, and duties unfortunately means close contact with his parents. For many hours.

The council in the morning passed by with no major issue. He had decided to keep quiet and just let time pass, but the things he has to hear during those make his skin crawl. When I’ll be king, he thinks. I’ll just need to wait it out. 

His mood sours anyway, and he still has the whole afternoon full with preparations for the wedding. And that means only his mother, if he’s lucky enough.

He isn’t.

They apparently sent for the best tailors in the kingdom, and today is the day they get to stay very still in a room together with nothing else to do than talk, while strangers take their measures, for an unknown period of time. 

It is as much a recipe for disaster as it sounds.

“What is Marius’ favourite colour?” his mother asks, clearly hoping to see some enthusiasm in his son’s demeanour at the mention of the Baron.

The main problem is Enjolras still doesn’t know how to approach his parents. He still hasn’t figured out what is the best approach to take there. Passive? Aggressive? Passive aggressive? Resigned? Happy with a veil of sadness?

He needs to sort this out with Marius and Cosette as soon as he can.

“Red, probably.” It’s not, probably. But it is Grantaire’s favourite colour on him, so.

“Probably?” His father asks, dryly.

Enjolras goes in automatic mode. “His favourite colours are red and purple, but from what I understood, purple is only if we talk about flowers. If it’s for a dress, red would most likely be the correct answer.” thank you, years and years of lies for making him so nonchalant about making up stuff on the go.

His father eyes him with a cold expression, but seems appeased for now.

“You’re gonna look so good in red” his mother sings, already snapping his fingers at the closest errand boy, telling him to write down what is an absurd list of shades of red, to be picked and tried later. Enjolras already dreads that day.

“Is the stable boy gonna be at the wedding?” his father asks.

“Who?” Enjolras asks, confused.

“Grandferre something? The kid who always follows you around.”

Enjolras feels faint, but his brain only supplies  _ don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up. _

“Ah, Grantaire.” Enjolras tries for a nonchalant tone. He’s not sure it actually works.

_ Don’t fuck it up. _

“Haven’t heard from him in a while” He continues. “Maybe.”

“Ask him. He’d be a good reminder.” The tone his father uses is final. Enjolras is not sure what game they are playing. He’s not sure whether he’s winning or losing. He doesn’t dare ask a good reminder _ of what _ .

He only hears  _ don’t fuck it up. _

“Sure, father.”

“That would be lovely, you were so close when you were little! The people loved to see you two play together.” His mother supplies.

Enjolras hums. “Things change when you get older.” he says, just to say something. To fill the void. To stop the panic that threatens to arise any minute now.

His father looks almost pleased. “Some things you learn the hard way, sometimes you have to do what 's right.” Meaning, what I tell you to do.

Enjolras wants to laugh. What could be less  _ right  _ than to marry a complete stranger with his best friend and actual lover standing next to him on the altar. 

He settles for a small nod, that must come across as sad and resigned, and his father just looks at him with a faint, victorious smile and it clicks.

Enjolras gets it. He gets the game. His father wants submission, but not happily given. 

He wants defeated, sad compliance.

And he can give it to him for another three weeks.

  
  
  
  


“I think I should meet them” Grantaire stops kissing him and suddenly Enjolras feels all the annoyance of the day come back with a vengeance.

“And I think you shouldn’t.” he snaps

“Dude, it’s my life too, in case you haven’t noticed.” Grantaire bites back, because he’s patient, and kind, and loving, but he never takes shit from Enjolras.

“No R, it’s  _ our  _ life. Together.”

“Yeah, and you’re deciding it all by yourself. I think I should have a fucking say in it, don’t you?”

Enjolras feels the need to scream, but he can’t scream because it’s night time and if someone comes and checks on him it will only mean more and more problems. But he would like to. He would like to scream and shake Grantaire until he sees reason. 

“As long as you say unreasonable things, no. I don’t think you should.”

Grantaire clenches his jaw, irritated just as much as Enjolras. This is not going to end well. Or soon.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Grantaire.” He raises his voice a little, unable to control himself. “I’m a hypocrite. I’m paranoid. Whatever the fuck you want to call me. You’re not meeting them.”

“At least give me a fucking reason.”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

Grantaire scoffs “And what, I should obey your commands because..?”

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Enjolras snaps at him.

“Funny you’d say that, I was going to ask you the same fucking thing.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’re not giving me any fucking answers, Enj. And I’m not your property. If I want to meet someone, I will. With or without your approval.”

And he’d do it too, Enjolras knows. Because Grantaire is kind, and loving, and strong. But he is also stubborn as a mule and gets a kick out of pissing off Enjolras sometimes.

But this is not any normal fight they have every couple of days, where they get pissed off at each other and scream for a while and then proceed to make up with kisses and cuddles in bed for hours on end. 

This feeds Enjolras’ worst fears. He knows Grantaire would go through with it. And Enjolras can’t speak.

He chokes on air for a few seconds, and all the blood must have gone from his cheeks, previously heated from the discussion, because Grantaire is looking at him weirdly. Still half pissed off, but also half concerned. 

“Please,” he manages to get out after a while “Please, I’ll do anything. Please, not now. Give me some time, please Taire, please.” and he realizes he’s half shaking when Grantaire’s arm snakes around his shoulders and tries to still him.

“Enj, breathe. We’re gonna talk about this, we’ll compromise, yeah?” Grantaire talks soothingly “We can work it out, but for now I need you to breathe. Come on.” 

And Enjolras tries his best, breathing in and out, but the litany of “Please taire, don’t go, please” takes a while to stop being whispered in between heavy breaths. 

As soon as he’s calmed down, Grantaire moves to give him some space. He sits in front of him and looks at him seriously.

“I think you’re being unreasonable about this, but I also think you have your reasons to be. But I can’t guess what’s on your mind Enj, and we made a promise a long time ago, we promised we would build this, us, on the truth. So we’re gonna talk about this, and you’re gonna explain exactly why this is such a big deal, when clearly it isn’t because otherwise you wouldn’t have put yourself in danger.”

Enjolras is still taking steading breaths, but he’s calm.

“I don’t know what’s  _ true _ .” he says, in the end. “I don’t know how to explain this. It makes my skin crawl and there is no actual need for you to meet them.”

“There is, because I’m asking for this.” Grantaire’s tone is soft, but unyielding.

“Can’t you just do this thing for me? Just don’t meet them. Please. It drives me crazy.”

“I’m not at your command, Enj. I can wait and we can find a safe way for me to meet them, but I will meet them, because this is our life together and we share things. We’re equals. I’m not your pet.”

And something in Enjolras clicks, because that’s it. That’s the truth.

“No, but you are! You are my pet, you-”

Grantaire jerks away from him, as if he just got burned “What?” He spits out.

“You are. You are a  _ thing _ , R. You are- what? Where are you going?” Enjolras asks when he sees the other man eyeing him with a mix of hurt and disgust, and moving away from him.

“I am a  _ thing _ , Enjolras? What the fuck?”

“Of course you are, of course. Because that’s what he cares about, about things. And the worst thing you could do to him is to  _ touch his things _ . And he sees you as my pet, he told me, he told me so many times before, so he will punish me with you. Don’t you see?”

Grantaire is silent for a long time. “Do you think I’m your pet?”

Enjolras looks at him, horrified. “Do I look like a fucking sociopath? No I don’t think you’re my pet, R. What the hell?”

Grantaire relaxes. “I’m sorry. You’ve been weird these days. I’m- of course not. I’m sorry.”

“Weird?” 

“You just- It’s like you have a whole new life and you’re keeping me out and- you’ve never kept me- you’ve always wanted me in your life, and with this, you don’t.”

“I want you in my life. If I could choose, you’d be the only person in my life. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Are you sure there’s no other.. Reason?”

Enjolras makes a questioning noise.

“Like, maybe it’s not that you don’t want me to meet them. Maybe you don’t want them to meet.. Me?” 

It takes a few seconds for Enjolras to register fully what Grantaire is implying here, and he laughs a little at how ridiculous it is to even contemplate the idea that Enjolras might be even remotely ashamed of Grantaire in front of other people.

“I’ve never, in my life, lied to you.” Enjolras says as an explanation.

“I know.” Grantaire nods.

“I can be confused about my own feelings sometimes, but I never lie to you. Ever. You know because it’s the most important thing in my life.”

“I know” Grantaire nods again.

“I used to parade you around town to make sure everybody knew you were my best friend.”

Grantaire coughs a laugh at the memory. 

“I will parade you around town the second I’m sure it’s safe for you to do so. But right now I’m scared they will hurt you. I’m scared, Taire. I’m so scared, every second of every day.”

“Ok.” Grantaire nods for the third time, and he’s convinced. “I believe you. Okay.”

“You can meet them after the wedding. Probably.” Enjolras offers.

“No. I will meet them now, and we will figure out a way to do it safely. We’re in this together.”

Enjolras makes a frustrated noise. “I need- tomorrow. Can we talk about it tomorrow? I need a break.”

Grantaire sighs next to him, but he’s exhausted too. “Tomorrow.” he agrees, and moves to cuddle the night away with his boyfriend.


	4. Chapter 4

Enjolras likes Marius. That is a dangerous path to walk because the more he likes him the more he wants to trust him, and he cannot take his chances. 

But today Marius asked for a tour of the town, and he was allowed to escape a full day of father-and-son duties for it, and he really fucking likes the guy. 

Cosette tags along, of course, and he really fucking likes her too because she’s witty and has a sharp sense of humour and he never had friends before, except R. And he doesn’t want to let himself hope but it’s so fucking hard.

“The square where the Sunday market takes place, every Tuesday.”

“Your Sunday market doesn’t take place on Sunday?”

“It did before, but then we changed it.”

“But you kept the name Sunday market because..?”

Enjolras shrugs, and Cosette doesn’t press it further, just limits herself to snickering.

“This town is so quaint, I really like it, Enjolras.” Marius tells him while looking up at the clock tower next to the church. It’s nothing special really, old and rustic, made of grey stones and dark wood. But the ivy covers half of the building and in summer it is very cute.

“My.. person. Wants to meet you.” Enjolras says out of the blue, because it’s been on his mind for hours, and he doesn’t know how to dissuade Grantaire, and he figures he can get some advice if they are actually his friends. And if they aren’t, it will probably show.

“Did you fight about it?” Cosette asks, always straight to the point.

“Yes.”

“Did you tell them that it was to keep them safe?”

“They say there are ways to meet safely.” Enjolras pouts.

“I mean, she should get a say in this too, shouldn’t she?” Marius adds, but only receives a dry look from both Enjolras and Cosette.

“It’s a useless risk. But I can’t seem to be able to convince them.”

“What’s the risk?” Cosette asks, and Enjolras colors a little, because he doesn’t really know how to explain this without offending his maybe friends, but Cosette seems to already expect his answer, when he says that they could just be there to figure out who they are.

“What if..” Cosette swallows nervously now, but doesn’t avert his eyes from Enjolras. “What if I already know who they are.”

Enjolras gapes at her, unable to say anything.

“I didn’t do it on purpose. I just heard people talk in the village, and in the kitchens and I- I just connected the dots.”

“Do you know her name?” Enjolras tries one last way out, implying that it is in fact a girl they are talking about, while he tried to use gender neutral pronouns up until now.

Cosette smiles at him, apologetically. “Yes,  _ their  _ name came up one time.”

Marius in the meantime is looking at Cosette as if he had been struck with lightning, in the best way possible.

“What else do you know?” Enjolras feels faint, but not as panicky as he would have expected.

“I know when you two met, and their occupation.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Marius asks, still in a daze

“I didn’t hear it on purpose, and he didn’t want us to know. It wasn’t my place to-” Marius stops her by grabbing her wrist suddenly. They’re in public, so they can’t do much more than this, but the gesture seems unbearably intimate nonetheless. “I love you with all my heart, Cosette.”

She smiles at him sweetly, and Enjolras gives up. He has no choice but to trust them now.

“When did you find out?”

“I heard about hi- them the night we arrived. And then, when you talked to us I suspected, and then I heard some more about it and it just made sense.”

Enjolras sighs. He cannot think of a reason why they wouldn’t have already hurt him, if they already knew who Grantaire was. The relief is so overwhelming it makes him a little dizzy. It makes him stupidly happy. He can be friends with them. He can stop second guessing every information he gives them.

“Let me show you to our blacksmith next, then.” he says “It might be my favourite shop in town.”

The smile Cosette gives him is blinding.

  
  


As soon as they enter the shop and Le Gros looks up from his work station, Enjolras smiles at him apologetically. In return, Le Gros sighs and drops what he was doing, breathes out a “for fuck’s sake” and leaves, making sure he closes the door behind himself.

Grantaire comes from the back of the shop, probably alerted by the sound of the door closing. He smiles when he sees Enjolras, but stops dead in his tracks when he registers the other two people beside him.

“Marius, Cosette,” Enjolras doesn’t waste time to make the proper introductions, but still has to swallow a couple of times before he can get out a whispered “This is Grantaire.”

Marius must have not caught up with the program yet, because he offers a hand to Grantaire, telling him “Prince Enjolras talks very highly of your shop.” Grantaire shakes it passively.

“That’s just fucking cruel.” Cosette blurts out, all of a sudden, and looks at him with wide eyes. Enjolras shrugs because he doesn’t know what to say, but it’s still nice to hear someone else say that making your son marry a copy of your boyfriend is a pretty shitty thing to do. 

Marius seems to put two and two together when Cosette doesn’t excuse herself for her language, and blushes furiously looking at Grantaire.

“I-I’m sorry I- nice to meet you. It’s a pleasure- not a pleasure. It is, but not-” Cosette puts a hand on his arm to stop him.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Grantaire reboots after a few seconds, and smiles. “Unexpected, but nice.”

“We were walking around town, talking about how your name is apparently very popular on the lips of the other maids of the palace. So she already knew who you were since day one.” Enjolras offers, trying to pass it as an explanation. It comes out as petulant.

Grantaire smirks. “I’ve always had a soft spot for the palace’s maids.”

Enjolras smiles at him, overly sweet “Be careful, R, or I might accidentally break the hard spots called your legs.”

Grantaire snorts out a laugh, and relaxes. “So you are as clever as Enj told me.” he tells Cosette. And it could come out as patronizing from anyone else, but with Grantaire it just sounds genuine and filled with admiration.

“I am flattered.” She smirks at him too, and Enjolras can already feel that these two will be trouble together, but it fills his heart with such pure joy that he finds himself bouncing on his feet. “Although,” she continues, distracting Enjolras from his train of thought “I’m not sure how much of a compliment I can take, from a man whose favourite book is The Confrontation.”

Grantaire blushes, and turns to Enjolras instantly, giving him a sharp look “My favourite book is not the fucking confrontation, Enj.”

Enjolras shrugs. “Live in denial for all I care.”

“You are such an asshole.” and he aims a kick toward the blond man. Enjolras easily slips away, years of practice making it almost instinctual.

“What is it then?” Cosette asks “Your favourite book?”

“I- just. I can’t choose one. I’ll get back to you on that one.” 

“That’s what Valjean said, before disappearing into the night, running ten miles on his muscular thighs and sculpted calves.” Enjolras offers from the bench where he sat. 

“Ignore him” Grantaire smiles at their guests. “He took a bag of apples to the head when he was a kid. Never been the same since.”

“You dropped the fucking bag, R. And they were apricots.”

  
  
  
  


A couple of hours later Enjolras, Marius and Cosette walk back home the long way round. Enjolras feels lighter than he’s felt in what seemed like forever. Any day, things seem to go a little better, and he is sure he will at some point stop and think about it and panic about the fact that his luck is bound to run out at some point, but today is not the day. Today he feels weightless and happy. 

At least until he is stopped by a maid on his way to his room, with a message that his father wants to have a word with him.

Tonight, the four of them arranged to meet and actually take matters in their hand. Specifically, they will talk about the wedding and everything that will go from there, but Enjolras wants their input on how to act around his parents too, because he always feels like he’s guessing what the right thing to do or to say is, at any given moment. 

But he’s been summoned, so he’ll just have to go with his instincts today as well.

His heart feels like it’s bursting out of his chest for the whole time it takes him to walk from his room to his parent’s, and he needs to take a few calming breaths before he can knock on the door.

“Come forth.” a deep voice commands from the inside, and Enjolras complies. 

“You asked to see me?”

“Did you go see your friend today? Granjean?”

“I- showed around the whole town to the Baron.”

“Very well. So, did you ask to come to the wedding yet?”

“We just passed by the blacksmith very quickly. I can send an invite for him tomorrow, if you want.”

His father hummed, in thought. “See that it is done as soon as possible. I want him as your best man”

“Yes father.” Enjolras nods, hoping that the conversation is over.

“See it done tomorrow morning, I don’t like things to be put on hold.”

“Yes father.”

“How are you liking the Baron, then?”

“He’s-” Enjolras feels like walking on eggshells, and he knows he’s sweating. “He’s the right choice.” 

His father grins “I’m glad you see reason at last. Life is made of choices, son. One day you will understand that when you make all the right ones, you can afford the things you want.”

Enjolras is not sure what exactly is the answer to such twisted logic, but he still says “Yes. Thank you, father.” and he is finally dismissed.

Enjolras feels like he can breathe again, as soon as he steps out of the room. Time is passing by extremely slowly, and by now he can’t wait to just be married and get it over with. He’s not sure how the situation will change after the wedding, but he feels hopeful. He won’t have his father’s omnipresent breath on his neck like he has now, since he’ll have a pretty sound alibi from that day on. By now he’s still not sure how much his parents know about him and Grantaire, but they clearly must know that there is something, so he needs to thread carefully. And he needs to be married, possibly soon, so he can avoid losing his mind.

  
  
  
  


That night, after dinner, Cosette and Marius knock on Enjolras’ door as planned. He lets them in after making sure no one is loitering in the corridors.

“Taire will be home soon.” he explains, offering a couple of chairs and something to drink.

Cosette and Marius, when they exist together in a place where they don’t have to be careful around each other, are a sight to behold. They naturally gravitate around each other as if they were a planet and its moon, but even that is just partially accurate, because there is no established centre to their movements. They adjust to each other’s presence naturally. Sometimes Marius orbits around Cosette, sometimes it’s the other way round. 

It’s extremely sweet, and Enjolras wonders if he and Grantaire do the same thing without noticing. 

He doubts it. 

“Did you read all of these?” Marius asks, running a finger on the books that fill his library. 

“Nah,” Enjolras approaches him, looking at the same books Marius is scrutinizing. “More than half of these are Grantaire’s. He went through a phase when he was 15, he would collect anything morbid he could get his fingers on. After that, he fixated on tragic love stories. We used to spend all of our money on it.”

“How did a blacksmith learn how to read?” Cosette asks from behind them.

“I taught him. That’s presumptuous, sorry. I used to always bring my homework to his house when we were little, so he used my books to learn. I helped him a little at first, but he mostly learned by himself. I was never too fond of school, but he loved to learn.”

“You’ve known him your whole life?” she looks at him with an arched brow

Enjolras nods.

“That’s impressive.” She states, and Enjolras isn’t sure if she’s referring to the fact that they are childhood friends or that he’s self taught in pretty much anything academic. Maybe it’s both. And she doesn’t even know the half of it.

“He also learned how to draw and paint by himself. I mean, he bought a few books and just learned.” Enjolras says, excited and proud. “And he started studying latin last year, just because. He can read it now, says writing it’s a bit harder, mostly because he has no one to practice with.”

“I know latin.” Marius offers. “We could correspond.” and his smile is so hopeful Enjolras smiles back instinctively.

Right at that moment there are three slow knocks on the door. Enjolras runs to the door, quickly opening it and revealing the boy he’s in love with on the other side.

Grantaire can be an affectionate person, they both love cuddling and they’ve always been very physical with each other. They used to wrestle when they were younger, got in more than one or two fights when they were teenagers, and as soon as they discovered the joys of physical love they were very eager to add that chapter to their book. But not even Enjolras expects Grantaire to literally jump him the minute he is through the door. Enjolras holds him up automatically, while the other boy locks his legs around his waist and buries his face in his neck, trailing kisses up and down and whispering “I love you so much” and “I missed you” and “You smell so good, Enj.”.

Cosette coughs loudly and Grantaire half screams an “Oh, fuck!” for the surprise, jerking away from Enjolras so suddenly they lose their balance and end up both on the floor, a pile of limbs tangled together.

“Not in front of the kids, guys.” Cosette adds after a few seconds, making a show of covering Marius’ eyes.

“Fuck, sorry.” Grantaire rushes out while standing up “Forgot you’d be here. Today’s been crazy.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Enjolras agrees next to him.

They settle for taking all a seat around the small table in front of the shelves full of books they were just discussing.

“So, how did you like the town?” Grantaire asks conversationally, pouring himself a glass of cranberry juice. He tried red wine once. They both did, and Grantaire decided it was really good, and that he would never drink it again, because he knew himself, and that, he felt, was exactly one of the things he would get addicted to.

Enjolras stopped drinking it as well, since he didn’t like it that much.

“Oh, it’s so good. I really liked the clock tower.” Marius answers excitedly.

“I particularly liked the square. Can’t wait for tuesday, when we get to see the Sunday market.” Cosette adds

Grantaire snorts a laugh. “What fun is a town if it doesn’t have a few little quirks to it.”

“After we came back” Enjolras intervenes, because for as much as he loves the banter, he needs to feel like he’s doing something about the situation. “My father called me to his room to insist I invite you to our wedding.”

Grantaire goggles at him. “Me?”

Enjolras nods. “As my best man, apparently.”

“That’s so fucked up.” Cosette whispers, but no one comments on it.

“He feels like it’s a good ‘reminder’. I’m guessing for me, but also to make the people in town feel more part of the wedding?”

Grantaire nods, still a little confused by the information.

“If it’s not- we can make up something if you don’t want to-”

“Are you kidding me?” Grantaire stops him. “You’ll be so hot in your wedding clothes, and they’re giving me a front row seat to that? I can’t fucking wait.”

Enjolras smirks at him “I’ll be in red.”

Grantaire groans, but it’s a satisfied sound that makes Marius giggle. 

“That’s so unfair, I won’t be able to attend just because I’m a girl.” Cosette pouts.

“There are probably ways you can still see the ceremony, if we’re sneaky about it.” Enjolras says. “There are backdoors and rooms that are only used by the servants. There should be one that leads to the big window to the left of the altar, right?” he asks Grantaire for confirmation.

“I’ll check tomorrow, but yes it should still be there.” He nods. Cosette seems a little less glum. “You’ll see everything with a shade of pink, because the glass is painted, but you’ll be able to see and no one will bother you.”

“What about after the ceremony?” Marius asks “How long until we are expected to.. Consume?” he blushes a little at his words. 

“From what I understood, a banquet will be held for the whole day and the one after that. We will be excused after three hours, but expected back as soon as the- the thing is done.”

“Will I be expected to stay? If I am your best man?”

“Probably? I mean you could maybe convince my parents to let you go after the first day, but I’m not even a hundred percent sure about that.”

Grantaire groans for the second time that night, but this time it is a way less happy sound now.

“How long should we-?”

Enjolras shrugs. He’d say ten minutes, but that’s not probably appropriate for marriage?

“An hour?” Cosette says at the same time that Grantaire offers “Three minutes?”

They stare disapprovingly at each other. “You’d let me spend an hour alone with Enjolras’ parents?” Grantaire half whines.

“You’d have three minute sex if you just got married to Enjolras?” and it’s meant to be just a logical conclusion, but Grantaire’s face can’t stop all the hurt from showing, because no. He wouldn’t. And they all know it. He’d be so happy- they’d both be so happy they would barely eat and sleep and do anything else for days on end, probably. But that will never happen, no matter how much they want it. And it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, because they’ve known this since the beginning of time. They should be used to it by now. But they never truly are.

Marius, bless his soul, puts a hand on Grantaire’s who has fallen quiet. “The way I see it” He starts, squeezing his hand a little, and looking at Enjolras at the same time. “This is a contract. Like all marriages are, after all. But this is a contract among us four. We don’t know each other all that well yet, but we know what matters.” he glances over to Cosette for a second. “So this is a contract to bind our families. To help each other through this. And yes, it sucks that we will not be able to legally marry anyone else in our lives, but this marriage is what allows us to have everything else. Think-” He stares at Enjolras, giving a little nod “-of the first time we met. We were both prepared for the worst case scenario. And we got extremely lucky. This is how we take advantage of this opportunity. This marriage can be a good thing, it’s an alliance. A vow to have each other’s back. And nothing more.”

Cosette stands up, walks over him, and kisses him fiercely.

Grantaire looks up to Enjolras and nods, receiving a nod back, as if they were getting ready to go into war.


	5. Chapter 5

The week of preparation before the wedding drags on forever and passes in the blink of an eye at the same time, and Enjolras is still trying to figure out how that works. After Enjolras confirmed Grantaire’s presence at the ceremony his name never came up again with his parents, for which he is extremely grateful, and it’s also extremely helpful to ease at least partially his worries. 

The day before the wedding finds Enjolras asleep under half the weight of his boyfriend until the late hours of the morning, and even when the amount of light that floods his room really doesn’t allow him to go back to sleep, he finds himself extremely unwilling to open his eyes and accept that this is his last day as Grantaire’s boyfriend. From tomorrow on, he will be a married man. 

He feels a little nauseous.

He tries to snuggle closer to Grantaire and hide his face in the crook of his neck to block out the light. Apparently, the only thing he achieves is to wake him up. 

“Enj” he mutters, still half asleep, and hugs him closer and tighter. 

“How come you’re not at the shop?” Enjolras asks, petting his hair at first, and then moving to scratching his scalp lightly, with just the right amount of pressure that he knows will wake him Grantaire without making him grumpy.

“Week off. Wedding.”

Enjolras grimaces. “You didn’t need to take a whole week off.”

“Had no choice.” he forces out, clearly still more asleep than awake.

“Le Gros made you?” 

Grantaire nods and sighs contentedly at the fact that he is being pampered and showered with attention.

Enjolras puts another hand in his hair and starts alternating between scratching and massaging black curls, because he is nothing if not a sucker for giving anything that will make Grantaire moan in pleasure like he is doing at this exact moment.

After a solid half an hour of cuddles, because that is approximately the time it takes Grantaire to actually come back from the dead and form coherent enough thoughts, they decide to have breakfast in bed. Enjolras sends for it as soon as Grantaire lets him rise from the bed, only to be tackled back to it as soon as he locks the door once more.

Grantaire pins him down and looks wild, wild as his curls that seems to defy the laws of gravity, wild as his eyes that make his pupils always seem to be blown wide and hungry. 

“Say you’re mine.” He whispers, and it might have sounded playful and flirty in Enjolras didn’t know him as well as he did.

“R-” he starts, not really sure how to talk about this.

“Are you?” He insists.

“I am. I’ve been yours my whole life.”

“You won’t be anymore, from tomorrow.”

His stomach twists displeased, and the nausea is back. This time, however, it has been brought upon by the absurdity of what Grantaire is saying, he realizes.

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said”

Grantaire looks at him with burning intensity, as if to check how honest Enjolras was in his answer, and Enjolras finds himself actually believing it, actually pissed at the implications that signing a mere piece of paper would be enough to change anything between them. He stares back at Grantaire, fiercely. 

After a few long seconds Grantaire lowers his eyes almost in shame, and whispers “Sorry.”

Enjolras nods at him approvingly.

“I’m yours. You are mine. That is how it’s supposed to be, R. That’s what’s true.”

“Yeah,” he smiles back, a little more convinced “That’s what’s true.”

  
  
  


“Is it true?” His mother asks a couple of hours later at the last fitting for the wedding dress. “Is it true that the stable boy will be your best man?” 

The wording makes him uncomfortable. No one is entitled to ask him to speak about truth, except for R.

“He works as a blacksmith, mother. Father asked for it, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

Her expression, always on the soft side and devoid of any care -both in a good and a bad sense- is for the first time unreadable. She seems irked, but her eyes settle for bored after a few instants.

“He told me he was to be invited, which was a good idea. But best man? Ruining the aesthetics of a perfectly lovely wedding to make a statement. I will never understand that man.”

Enjolras takes a deep breath and thinks of black curls and warm mornings.

  
  
  


Cosette walks through the town square arm in arm with Grantaire, under the scrutiny of a few curious eyes. She got used to how similar Grantaire and Marius look, to the point that she doesn’t really see it at all. 

They walk on the far end of the square, where the grass reclaims its territory among the few dislodged stones that some accident must have ruined at some point. Grantaire makes sure she knows where to be careful about it. 

_ He’s kind _ , is one of the first things Enjolras said about him, and she now understands.

Marius is polite. He’s a people pleaser. His education makes sure he always says the right thing at the right time, but it’s more than that. He likes to make people happy, because the happiness they feel, he shares. He’s bright, and sweet, and a little naive, but in the best way.

But Grantaire’s kindness, she doesn’t know how to put it into words.

It’s like it’s second nature to him, to foresee what the person he has in front might need, or want. And he offers it before they can even ask, before it was even in question that he would do anything he can to provide it for them.

He doesn’t really seem to get any satisfaction out of it, it’s like it never occurred to him that he could behave in any other way. So he starts telling Cosette stories and legends about the church they are walking towards even before Cosette actually realizes that the few stares she was getting were making her a little nervous and uncomfortable.

How can Enjolras stand such an overwhelming level of kindness every day of his life, she struggles to understand.

By the time Grantaire gets to the end of the legend of the white wolf that protected the clock tower for eleven nights leading to the summer solstice, they are pushing through the church doors. Grantaire waits for her as she joins her hands and whispers her thanks. They join arms again after she’s done.

“The church opens at 6 in the morning.” Grantaire explains quietly, and Cosette snaps back to full attention. “The priest opens the doors at six and spends about an hour making sure everything in here” He gestures to the altar and the whole room in general “is clean and tidy and I have no idea what else. Then, he moves up there” He whispers, sparing a look at what she supposes are the women’s galleries “To check on the windows and shit. That should be another half an hour. Then he moves to the second floor and stays there to write his sermons for the day, and that will take him some time.”

Cosette nods “So I’ll come around eight? Just to be safe?”

“Yes, I’d say eight. The wedding will be around noon, and most of the things are already set in place, so I’d say no one will come here before 9? Maybe even 10.” He walks leisurely around the aisles, and it isn’t until they stop in front of a big painting of a man being pierced by arrows that she realizes he was moving with purpose. “This is Saint Sebastian. Poor old chap serves you to know that the door you need to go through is directly underneath him.” He explains, not moving his gaze from the painting above them. “You go through the door, up the stairs and beyond the wooden plank. I’ve not been there in a couple of years, it should be solid still, but if you’re unsure you can jump past it pretty easily, it’s super short. There’s a- let’s call it a corridor, very narrow, almost claustrophobic, walk down until you get to the pink window. You can try the blue one as well, but the paint they used on the glass is not as see through, so I think the pink one is your best shot.”

Cosette repeats the instruction back at him, to be sure, and he nods, almost distractedly. In a moment, he has taken back her arm and they are leaving the church at once. 

“For the wait.” He tells her, as soon as they are on the desert road that from the village brings them to the palace. He’s offering a couple of books and a small jute bag. She opens it and finds it full of apples.

“Thanks.” She manages to say. Overwhelming, she thinks once again. And vows to destroy anyone who dares hurt the boy next to her. She takes a look at the books, one seems to be a romantic comedy, and the other one..

“Really? I’m not 12 anymore.” She tells him shaking The Confrontation in front of him.

“Read it again, I bet you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” He grins.

When night falls and Grantaire meets Enjolras back in their room, they both look like the longest day of their life came to an end. They look tired of that tiredness that has nothing to do with physical exertion, and dulled by that sadness that comes from having been resigned to the inevitable for way too long.

They don’t speak, because what had to be said was already said before. They just exist in each other's space, they kiss and make love until the early hours of the morning. They make love as if it was their last night together on earth, because that’s what it feels like, and Enjolras prays with all his might that they are just being over dramatic about all of this, but the ugly feeling that is gripping his insides doesn’t ease at all, no matter how many times Grantaire holds him, whispering words of love.

  
  
  
  
  


When Enjolras wakes up again, for the first time in as long as he can remember, Grantaire is already gone, and he feels like seriously throwing up. Cecile is at the door with what he supposes should be his breakfast, but there is no way any food is staying down right now.

“I’d have to insist you eat something,” She’s telling him with worry in his eyes “It will be a long and vexing day, you will need strength to get to the end of it.”

“I honestly can’t Cece.” he pleads. 

“Just a couple of spoons, it’s your favourite pudding.” She offers. Vanilla and strawberry. He really wants to throw up.

“I could eat some bread. Plain. Everything else is a no go.” he compromises, and feels the woman in front of him deflate a little. She offers a sad smile anyways, and leaves to go find some bread for him. He feels terrible. He hates being picky with food and giving anyone extra work, really. But today it probably can’t be helped. 

When she comes back, he makes an effort to eat two whole slices, even if he doesn’t touch the butter and marmalade she brought with it. He even tries to smile at her while eating, and to look like anxiety is not eating him alive, but the second she’s gone to fetch the tailors to put him in his dress, he throws it all back up. 

He doesn’t feel better after that, not one bit.

“Where is everybody else?” he asks Cecile when she comes back. He hopes she can crack the code, that he only really wants to know the whereabouts of one person. She usually can, because she knows him really well, so when she answers, Enjolras just gets more and more anxious.

“Your father is not yet up and about, but he will be soon. We need to speed things up, the hour is becoming a little late. Your mother has left for the church already, as she needed a few last minutes arrangements to be made. Your fiancé, I have not seen. His maid tells me he is up and getting ready,however.”

What about my best man, he wants to ask. What about Grantaire? What about what I was actually asking? He is not sure if she really didn’t understand the question, or if she doesn’t want him to have the answer to that.

He sweats, but his skin shivers from the cold.

“Seems like you’re coming down with something.” another maid tells him, resting a hand on his forehead. “Resist for a few hours still, too bad you’ll be feeling unwell on your big day.”

He hums, because he really can’t think of any answer to give, and raises his left hand just as the tailor instructs him to, so he can let himself be properly dressed.

  
  
  
  
  


Noon comes with the sun shining at its zenith, and the cold sweats that dampen Enjolras’ back intensifying. The road from the palace to the church goes by in a blur, someone tells him where to go and he obeys, his mind full of his own voice telling himself to just get through this, and that tomorrow everything will be fine, over, done with.

He’s never been too convincing of a person.

He walks down the aisle feeling like every single person is watching and talking about him. Which they probably are, seeing as it’s his wedding. He’s so glad his stomach is empty, because he totally would have not kept anything down the moment his eyes met Grantaire’s on the altar. He looks worried sick, he doesn’t really move, but his eyes are the eyes of a caged animal.

Enjolras can’t really stand to look at him for long, but before he turns to face Marius, he sees him mouthing  _ this is not true,  _ and he feels a little knot in his stomach undoing itself.

Marius smiles at him with genuine ease, so he takes a couple of deep breaths, and tries his best to return it. 

The priest comes out of seemingly nowhere, and Enjolras jumps a little at the sound. But he’s here now, and so the farce begins.

  
  
  
  


It really shouldn’t make Enjolras laugh, but it does, that his father is seated between himself and Grantaire at the banquet that follows the ceremony. He doesn’t even remember how he got there, who told him where to sit. He just felt so much relief as soon as he didn’t have to keep himself upright on his legs. And the banquet feels like all of this is almost over, that the worst has come and gone. And he feels so unbelievably tired. So his father, sitting on his left, who has Grantaire on his left in turn, makes him want to explode in hysterical giggles.

Marius must sense that Enjolras is very close to losing it, so he bends a little to whisper in Enjolras’ ear. To anyone, it is an extremely sweet and affectionate gesture.

“We can go as soon as you want, you look like you might need a minute to get yourself together.” he whispers.

Enjolras nods, but doesn’t make a move to stand up. He still feels unable to make his legs work properly, so it is another half an hour before he puts a hand on Marius’ arm and gives him a pointed look.

Marius nods back, and turns to say something to his mother-in-law now, who in turns looks at them as if they just gave her grandchildren. Enjolras couldn’t care less, waits for her to announce to everybody their leave to go and  _ ‘consume the sacred bond that was forged today’ _ and stands up. 

He thinks he wouldn’t have wanted to marry Grantaire with such a crass, vulgar ceremony. And another knot eases his grip on his stomach.

  
  
  


Two hours later, they make their way back to the banquet. Marius spent the whole time with Cosette, he can imagine how, and he got to take a long nap that makes him want to die a little less than before. He could have actually slept the day away -if that liminal space between dream and consciousness can be called sleep really- if Marius didn’t come to wake him up. And if Grantaire wasn’t at the banquet alone, at the mercy of his parents.

As soon as they make their appearance in the big hall where the banquet is taking place, everybody bursts into applause. The nausea comes back with a vengeance, only to grow when he realizes his father is conversing with Grantaire. Like his worst nightmares have come to life.

Luckily neither of them seem particularly distressed by the conversation, so Enjolras tries to let it go as much as he can, and takes his seat back where he was before.

He tries to focus on the food, praying the time away, but it’s kind of impossible when even taking a bite seems the most difficult thing you’ve ever done, so he half listens to the conversation taking place next to him. To his utmost surprise, his father is being half decent. The wine might be responsible for the small miracle.

“And how long have you been working as a blacksmith?”

“Since I was 15, sir.”

“It’s a respectable job.”

“It pays for food, sir.”

What the fuck does his father know about respectable jobs, he’d like to ask. He doesn’t give a shit about anyone else beside himself. Maybe he should just remain constantly drunk. Maybe he could be bearable then.

“What about your family?”

“Haven’t had one since I was five, sir.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend, or something?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

He sounds like a fucking noisy uncle, asking about jobs and marriage prospects. Which is all the more laughable thinking that he would have been, or at least something close to that, if he didn’t decide to ruin everything good in his son’s life and let Grantaire just fucking be in their lives officially.

In an attempt to distract himself from the absurdity of what’s happening to his left, he focuses on Marius who, bless him, is indulging his mother about god knows what. After two seconds of eavesdropping, he wishes he had stuck with the left side of the table.

“..so of course, when you talk about two men, it couldn’t possibly work, and one must take the role of the woman.”

“Is that so?” Marius tries for a diplomatic approach.

“I’m just asking you to be mindful about the fact that Enjolras, as the king, should never be put in a position of inferiority. Not even in the marital bed.”

“I’ll make sure that never happens, mother.”

“We must bear the suffering that inevitably comes from marriage, Marius.” she puts a hand on his arm, as if to convince him further, and Enjolras is mortified, and embarrassed, and disgusted by the idea that anyone could ever think of his preferences in bed as their business, but all of it is dumbed down by the pity he feels toward this woman at this very second. She probably had not much choice in being given in marriage to this cruel, egotistical man, and actually thinks that this is normal. This is how things should be. This is love, in her mind.

He gestures for his favourite maid to approach the table.

“Cecile, I am feeling very poorly. This morning I felt like jumping and singing in comparison to now. Please prepare my bed, I think I need to go lie down for a while.”

She just nods and says “Of course, sir. I’m even surprised you lasted this long, you are very pale.” and with that she hurries away.

His mother fusses over him for a minute while his father, true to himself, barely dismisses him, quickly going back to focusing on Grantaire and whatever the hell he might be interrogating him about. R offers him an encouraging smile, before turning back to the man demanding his attention.

Ten minutes later, Enjolras buries himself in fresh sheets and soft pillows, and tries to sleep away the few remaining hours until the banquet is finally over. 

He doesn’t even know how many hours have passed from the moment he closed his eyes, to the moment three slow knocks land on his bedroom door.

“Come in” he half shouts from under the duvets. 

“Is everything ok?” a voice that is disappointingly not Grantaire’s asks. Enjolras sits up on the bed to see Cosette and Marius standing by the door with a worried expression.

“I just really needed to get away, I’m sor-”

“No, I meant Grantaire. He told us to meet him here, that he had to tell us all something and it was important.”

Enjorlas, thank god, has just enough time to register the words, and not enough time to panic about them, when another three slow knocks can be heard from the door.

Marius opens the door to let Grantaire in. His cheeks are red as if he’d been running to get there as fast as he can, and the worry in his eyes that Enjolras saw today in church is but a distant echo of the panic that they contain now.

“What? What is it?” Enjolras asks in a rush.

“I think we have a huge fucking problem.”


	6. Chapter 6

What Grantaire knew about Enjolras’ father could be summarized in: he is a shitty father. What he knew of the king of the place where he lived went along the exact same lines.

There was no other opinion to be had about the man, because he knew nothing about him that didn’t fall under the category of King or Enj’s father.

Until today. 

The ceremony had been stupid, the banquet was proving to be just as idiotic a feat. They sat and ate and talked of nothing with people he didn’t care about. It was nothing he couldn’t endure, he was just bored out of his mind, barely following the conversation he was having with the King, who seemed to be incredibly interested in his work as a blacksmith, go figure. He asked about his mentor, about his best piece of work, about his preferences in forging swords or his more artistic works of jewelry and hair combs. But Grantaire was really fucking bored, and he misses clues on a good day, so even when the King asked about his physical strength, he didn’t think anything about it. Just a weird person asking weird questions in a weird situation.

When the king started talking about prices, he focused a little more on what was happening next to him. And when he told him the prices were set by Le Gros, based on time, material and many other variables of the work, and the King only shook his head and told him “I’m talking about your other services. The ones my son hired you for in the past.” he really, really started fucking paying attention.

“What kind of services were you looking for, sir?” He asked, feeling trapped like never before in his life. Whatever the King was asking of him, and he had an unfortunately pretty good idea of what it was, he was talking about it with no inclination of asking Grantaire if he wanted to actually offer his so called  _ services _ . In his mind, if he wanted something, he got it. It was only a matter of price, and he was the wealthiest man in the land. 

“You’ll come by my chambers two times a week to begin, and we will see how it goes from there. You can bring a change of clothes if you want. And whatever else is needed for the act between two men.”

“I- I have a job out of town with the shop lined up. I will not be in town for a while.” He invented quickly, unsure of what a good excuse could sound like in the situation. 

“No matter, you can come by as soon as you are back in town. Let me know by tomorrow when that might be.” 

Grantaire nodded, unable to make sense of anything going on around him for a few minutes. And when he excused himself from the banquet, saying he had much to organize, seeing the new circumstances that had just arised, the King only gave him a discracted nod, dismissing him without a care in the world.

  
  
  
  


Enjolras doesn’t feel like he’s breathing for the entire time Grantaire is talking, retelling the conversation with his father with a shaky voice. He doesn’t even move for a few minutes, not even when his brain is telling him to go hug his boyfriend who is clearly scared out of his mind because he’s being forced into prostituting. He doesn’t move, and doesn’t breathe, because he has no time to do so. Anything he has time for is thinking of how to get Grantaire as far away from his disgusting piece of shit of a father, as soon as possible.

They planned to run away so many times, and each time they didn’t go through with it because the risks of being caught were too high and the stakes were not.

But now the stakes have skyrocketed, and they have two more people that can help them go through with it. Most importantly, Enjolras doesn’t accept anything that isn’t getting Grantaire out of here and keeping him safe, so there’s that.

He vaguely registers all the insults Cosette is throwing around, directed to his father, and he is glad someone is saying what he feels in his heart out loud, because he doesn’t have time to do it himself, because he’s already forming an escape plan.

He sees Marius offering Grantaire a glass of water, and thanks heaven and the stars that life landed him with people like that.

He snaps out of it -a plan almost finalized in his mind- when Grantaire looks at him with the saddest eyes and whispers sorry.

Hell the fuck no.

He approaches his boyfriend and takes his face in his hands carefully, as if he were the most fragile, most precious thing in this world.

“Three things.” He says, looking at him in the eyes to make sure he knows how important this is. “Three things, all equally true. One, I love you. Two, you have nothing to be sorry about, anyone that put you in the condition of having to go through that conversation should be apologizing to you for the rest of their lives, me included. And three, I’m getting you out of here.”

Grantaire’s eyes widen at his words, but he never falters.

“Enj, we can’t-”

“Do I look like I give a fuck what we can and can’t do? Does anyone else in this family? We’re not staying here a minute longer than it’s strictly necessary.”

Grantaire swallows, and seems a bit frantic in looking around the room.

“We should talk about-”

“I think you should drink some more water, and we should all take a deep breath and not freak him out even more.” Marius says with a bit of a commanding tone in his voice.

“Of course.” Enjolras says. “We will talk about it for as much as you want. For as much as we need. Just know nobody will ever lay a hand on you, I promise.”

Grantaire nods, taking another sip of water and trying to slow down his breathing.

They remain quiet for a while still, and Enjolras is grateful, because he can finalize the last details of his plan while stroking R’s thigh for comfort.

“Ok. Tell me.” he asks Enjolras when his breathing is completely under control.

“I have two options, it depends on how much you are willing to help us.” He says looking at Cosette, a bit sheepishly. 

Her gaze meets him with a level of fierceness equal to his own “Anything you need.”. Enjolras nods.

“You send word to my father tomorrow, saying that you will be out of town for at least two weeks. That will also coincidentally be the amount of time the illness that took me tonight will last. Cecile will be in charge of caring for me together with Marius, I’ll write her a note explaining everything, and she will help you two. She always did for us, don’t worry. She knows everything. You will make her read the letter in your presence and then burn it instantly, we cannot risk anyone finding out about this. Cosette, if anyone of my family comes to check on me, just get into bed and let a few strands of hair show. Your hair looks so much like mine, they will be fooled as long as you don’t talk and they don’t see your face.”

Cosette nods, together with Marius, and Enjolras thanks fate again for them.

“We’ll leave as soon as we’re ready. Tonight if it’s possible, tomorrow at dawn if it isn’t. We’re getting a carriage up until the river north, then a raft should be available to take people from the river to the open sea, and we take a boat to the south from there.” He tells Grantaire, even though this part of the plan was a constant every time they planned their escape. “It’s a week to get to the first harbour. From there, we change and take a boat to one of the minor islands.” Grantaire nods weakly, almost scared to believe that this might actually work. “As soon as we decide a place where to stop, we will send mail to let you know how to contact us.” He looks back to Marius. “Tell my parents that you came to my room one day and found it empty. Do it after two weeks. They will hopefully be too distressed by the news to think about Grantaire for a while, and when they will, Le Gros will be ready to tell them you never really came home, because the people in the north offered you a job and you decided to stay there.”

Enjolras feels like he just started breathing again. Saying all of it out loud made it sound like it could actually happen. Especially when Marius is smiling at him and Cosette is grinning wickedly, as if she was proud of him.

“What if they connect that we escaped together?” Grantaire asks, still not fully convinced.

“What if they do? We will already have a two weeks advantage on them, the only lead they have is that you maybe went north? They will probably start looking there. They will never think Le Gros was in on it, and Marius will do his best” Enjolras eyes him as a warning “To look distraught by my departure, so that we don’t have to worry about them getting in trouble either.”

“How good of an actor are you?” Grantaire asks, skeptical.

Marius looks at him like he’s been hurt. It actually looks like Grantaire could not have said anything worse to him. His smile becomes sad, then disappears completely and his lips quiver for a second before he puts a hand on his mouth to muffle a whimper. He squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds, and when he opens them, they’re rimmed red. He lets himself fall on a chair, holding the arm rest with a shaky hand for a few seconds. Then his smile is back on, he quickly wipes his tears and says “I think I’ll manage.”

Cosette is grinning from ear to ear, Grantaire is stunned shut, and Enjolras whispers “You are a terrifying human being and I adore you”.

“I think we shouldn’t match your escape with Grantaire’s date of return.” Cosette says after a while, still half deep in thought. “That’s way too good a coincidence not to raise some suspicions.” 

“I could say I’ll stay away for a month maybe? Some works do take that long.” Grantaire supplies, and Enjolras can’t help the smile that grows on his face, hearing him on board with the plan at last.

“But maybe if they do suspect,” Marius argues “They will go north first and lose some time looking for you there. With no leads they will just assume you two are together and look for actual clues-”

“That’s still better than having-” Cosette starts, but Enjolras is quick to stop her.

“What if we give them a false lead? Like I ran away because something-something in the east. A secret lover no one knew anything about.”

“Please oh my god yes, let me write the love letters.” a spark of interest and mischief glints in Grantaire’s eyes for the first time since he came back from the banquet, and Enjolras thinks he will be ok. 

He finally feels like he can breathe again.

  
  
  
  


“Let’s start small with choosing the name”

“What name?”

“Your lover’s name, Enj.”

“How am I supposed to choose.”

“What was the name of that guy, the one in the painting you liked.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The guy with the- the thing on his head.”

“We can choose one from your books.”

“The dead bird on his head, Conf- Courre- Courfeyrac?”

“Why am I canonically gay now?”

“Let’s make him a poet.”

“I wouldn’t date a poet.”

“A painter?”

“No.”

“A minstrel, then. He won you over by composing songs about you.”

“In the painting he-”

“Shush, I’m writing now.”

“But you’re not listening to me!”

_ Cher Enjolras, _

_ My music suffers from your absence, my hands cannot be satisfied with the touch of my lyre anymore, for they have tasted what true music feels like when they felt the warmth of your skin. _

_ When will we see eachother again? _

_ C. _

“That’s so crass. No way I would date a guy that talks like that.”

“I’m pretty sure I said worse things in my life.”

“And what did you need the name for if you didn’t even-”

“It’s for realism!”

“It’s crass.”

“You’re crass.”

“You’re crasser.”

“Is that even a word.”

“Shut up and write the next one.”

_ Mon Soleil,  _

_ Last night was- _

“Taire! Don’t be vulgar!”

“I haven’t done anything yet!”

“Ugh!”

  
  


_ Mon Soleil,  _

_ Last night was a month since we last saw each other. I played the flute and thought about you. _

  
  


“I swear to- you’re like five.”

“Not like I can’t hear you giggle.”

  
  


_ Mon Soleil,  _

_ Last night was a month since we last saw each other. I played the flute and thought about you. When will you come visit my home? I miss you terribly, but I don’t always have the means to travel for a month, unfortunately. _

  
  


“Oh. That’s clever, R.”

“Contain your bewilderment, I’ve always been the smart one.”

“You keep telling yourself that, my love.”

“Ye kEeP telLinG yErselF thAt mEy LOvE.”

“Write!”

  
  


_ Mon Soleil,  _

_ Last night was a month since we last saw each other. I played the flute and thought about you. When will you come visit my home? I miss you terribly, but I don’t always have the means to travel for a month, unfortunately. _

_ I’ll wait for you. _

_ Courf. _

  
  


“Will you ever use the full name?”

“I’m saving it.”

“For what, winter?”

“Shut up”

  
  


_ Mon Coeur, _

_ My name never sounds sweeter than when it falls from your lips in a moan, as if it was ecstasy itself.  _

  
  


“Oh my fucking god.”

“I’m way too good at this. I should start writing you dirty letters.”

“...”

“Enj?”

“Finish it.”

“Are you ok? Oh my god do you like this?”

“Shut up! Finish the goddamn letter!”

“On it, boss.”

“And stop laughing!”

  
  


_ Mon Coeur, _

_ My name never sounded sweeter than when it falls from your lips as if that was ecstasy in itself. I can’t wait for you to be here and hear it once again. _

_ Come soon,  _

_ Courfeyrac. _

  
  
  


Two hours later, they managed to rack up a grand total of 12 letters and two songs. More than half of them had sexual undertones, to Grantaire’s great amusement and Enjolras’ dismay. Not that he actually cared, he’d be so far from the palace by the time the letters are going to be discovered. Marius had been assigned the task of ‘finding’ the letters as soon as someone even slightly moved in the direction of suspecting Grantaire’s involvement in the matter. 

Cosette and Marius leave them alone to pack everything they might need, and it is such a weird feeling, trying to pack the least amount of stuff possible, and still trying to take with you a lifetime worth of memories.

Grantaire allows himself two books to bring with himself, and it takes more to choose which ones than to get everything else ready. He’s still looking at the bookshelves gloomily when Cosette and Marius come back.

“A wedding present.” Marius offers with a smile, letting a small sack in Enjolras’ hands. He shakes it a little and the metal clinks revealing that it is in fact money. 

“Marius, we already have-”

But the other man doesn’t even let him finish. “You’re going to need as much as you can, and I’m part of the family now. I have just as much money as the King, this just happens to be the amount I had on me.”

Enjolras thanks him with a hug, feeling a little overwhelmed.

Cosette offers another bag, provided hers is a little bigger.

“Save as much money as you can.” She amonishes them. “You won’t have to buy food for a few days, walk when you can, it’s good for making people lose track of you, too.”

Grantaire takes the bagful of food, hugs her and lands a heavy kiss on her cheek. She hits him in the head lightly in return.

When they are ready to leave, the four of them walk as quietly as possible through the corridors and halls of the palace. Nobody is around, Enjolras doesn’t even know if it’s because of the banquet or the late hour, but he still feels on edge until they reach a backroom door that will lead them directly into a forest. Maybe he should feel more like something life changing is happening, but there’s nothing there besides the fear that someone is going to find them any minute now and a hint of relief that every step he takes is a step farther away from his blood relatives.

The last thing they say to each other is “Write as soon as you can.” whispered by Marius, that looks like a mother sending his sons on a journey and doesn’t know when they’ll be back. He sighs but smiles as they nod and wave, walking hurriedly towards the trees that will hide them from curious eyes.


End file.
